and I promised myself that I'd stop writing about you,
because you no longer deserved it.
---
but here I am, a month later, and I still compare
every new person I meet to you;
I still find pieces of you in song lyrics;
I still check my messages hoping that maybe you've changed
(either your mind, or your personality, or both).
here I am, a month later, still writing about you, love.
and I wish I wasn't.
I wish your name didn't make my cheeks turn slightly red;
I wish seeing pictures of you smiling with other people,
better people, didn't make my heart sink a little;
I wish I could convince myself that you're not worth it anymore.
---
we'll see how I'm doing next month.

All trace of pleasure
Strangled
By a villainous hand,
Till all but toxic air remains

Consuming an anguished body.

Maybe now you'll begin to realize
why I can never take the word
"forever" too seriously by anyone.

Because we made promises too big
for our hearts
and reality has a harsh way
of not giving us what we want.

And even though I was the one
who called it off,
you were the one who left
months before,
leaving behind nothing but a ghost.

You always thought my words
were beautiful,
but will you still think the same
when they're written all about you?

-k.w//A Letter to my Recent Heartbreaker

bright eyes
looked at me
with the hopes and dreams
of all that could be

forgiving eyes
looked at me
told the story of strength
that no one should need

sad eyes
looked at me
showed the bruises from a world
that was anything but free

blank eyes
looked through me
it's the product of a life
that was only left to bleed